


Always Only You

by Fruipit



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Elsanna Monthly Contest, F/F, Mentions of Blood, POV First Person, Romance, anna gets slapped, hans being a dick, i actually really love this story and i tried really hard, i cannot express how much it would mean to me right now, i edited it like half a dozen times, if you like it please do tell me, mentions of domestic violence, planetarium - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruipit/pseuds/Fruipit
Summary: Elsa was the wife of the richest man in town. She was beautiful, smart, and a mere shadow next to him.Falling in love with her was, therefore, completely unavoidable.
Relationships: Anna/Elsa (Disney), Elsa/Hans (Disney)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 118





	Always Only You

**Author's Note:**

> written for the elsanna-shenanigans monthly prompt. i wanted to challenge myself by writing in a POV I never ever use, and to hit exactly the upper word limit. it didn't win, nor did it get the bonus point (see if you can, actually, spot Gale!) but I think it's one of my best works, even if others disagree.
> 
> if you like this, please leave a review or a kudos <3 it would seriously make my day.
> 
> [edit: added in allll the italics that were lost when I uploaded this the first time]

She was the type of woman who seemed completely and utterly mundane until you actually had the pleasure of being able to talk to her - a moment which would, thereafter, render you completely unable to think of anything else at all.

Her name was Elsa, and she was the wife of Hans Westergaard, one of the city's richest businessmen, and prolific donator to the arts and sciences. Half the town was owned by him, the other half named after him. He was rich and powerful and he knew it.

But, she didn't seem to share his love of self-indulgence (and only a person who donated so much to buildings and regressive politicians could be so self-indulgent). 

She'd visited the planetarium where I interned a few times with her husband, but had never spoken to me. Thinking back on it, I don't recall her ever speaking to anyone. She was, in all appearances, a perfectly demure trophy wife.

My impression of her changed drastically during an event held at the planetarium to celebrate a large donation from Mr Westergaard. It was enough money to build an entire wing that would bear his name, and I found myself attending if only to develop some contacts.

It was an open party with an open bar. No expense could be spared – it was, after all, his reputation. Hans often gave long speeches, clapping himself on the back with every word, the audience soaking it up as though he were a demigod. Not this evening, however – I distinctly remember it, as there had been some talk about him falling ill. Fortunate of him to have owned one of the private hospitals, I'd thought at the time.

But it meant that he was not, for the first time, in attendance. The honor of speeches, therefore, rest upon the shoulders of his wife: the woman mistaken for insignificance until I heard her speak.

I could have listened to her for hours, with her soft timbre and lilting vowels; it was not to be, as she said only a few sentences of thanks before taking her leave. Once the remainder of the pomp and circumstance was done, I moved towards her. I was not the only one; though, while I had approached her to hear her voice again, the men who had done the same had a different motive. They talked and talked, never giving her a moment to contribute, oblivious to how her attention remained elsewhere. Her eyes caught mine, and I instantly knew there was an intelligence behind her eyes that I hadn't imagined could live there. I suppose I had assumed that any wife of Hans would be a gold-digger or a moron. From that one little glance, she appeared to be neither.

"I am sorry, gentlemen," she said, a good hour later – an hour of listening to one-sided conversations. I felt exhausted and out of breath and I hadn't even spoken.

Though that might be because of the way her eyes met mine, just before she spoke again.

"Thank you for entertaining me tonight. I am sure my husband would be grateful." The mention of Hans had the men shuffling, and she soon moved away towards the coatroom. I slipped away, unnoticed, and followed her. Even now, I couldn't say why I did such a thing. She gave me an easy smile as we stood by together, waiting for the clerk to return from out the back.

"We didn't have a chance to be introduced," she said. "I'm Elsa."

"Anna Sommerfield," I said, holding out my hand. "I loved your speech."

She smiled at me then, and looked away. "Hans prepared one for me, but I don't think I would have made it through the first page. I'm not a fan of public speaking."

"I would have listened to it," I said. She blinked, smile falling away for a moment before it returned. It was softer this time.

"Well, thank you, Anna." The clerk returned with her coat, and she collected it before turning back to me. "I hope to see you around again."

I watched her all the way down the stairs, until her car arrived and the driver opened the door for her.

I hoped for the same thing.

* * *

Elsa came to visit the planetarium several times over the next few weeks. One of my previous attempts at networking had been successful, and I had picked up some paid work taking guided tours on the weekends. Often, it was just small groups of children and their families, but it allowed me the chance to take a break my more serious studies, and simply discuss something I was passionate about.

Hans always accompanied her, arm looped through hers as he directed her through the expansive building. He'd point out things and talk about them, but he frequently got it wrong. 

"The Sun is a yellow-dwarf because of the color of light it gives off. Red dwarf stars are red," he said during a tour. We were inside the planetarium proper, domed ceiling projecting an accurate model of our star system. I was standing to the side, ready to answer questions if anyone asked.

"Fascinating, Hans," Elsa said softly. He was wrong, of course, but it wouldn't do me any good to correct him. Elsa's eyes aligned on mine, and she gave a small smile before Hans was tugging her off in another direction, explaining (incorrectly) how black holes were formed.

This became a regular occurrence, Elsa visiting. Always with Hans, and I was too nervous to strike up a conversation with her. She liked the stars, and he liked to keep an eye on his investments.

But I couldn't keep my eyes from her. Whenever I spoke, it was her to whom I was speaking. Whenever I led the group to a new section, it was her I was leading. I desperately wanted to talk to her, but I wouldn't even have known what to say. And so I said nothing but the script I had to follow, eyes never straying far from Elsa as I worked. Part of me longed for another opportunity to speak to her privately. 

And then, one day, I got my wish. Elsa arrived, as she was wont to do, promptly in time for the first guided tour. And, for the first time, Hans was nowhere to be seen. She stayed at the back of the crowd, following behind quietly. Perhaps I was a little more enthusiastic in my explanations than I might usually have been, but it could easily be excused as a general _joie de vivre_. At the time, I had thought myself dreaming of her own face lighting up a little brighter as our eyes met. I soon discovered that belief to be completely accurate.

"That was a wonderful tour," she said to me afterwards. "I think it was your best yet."

I smiled at her, and ducked my head. It was strange, being complimented by someone whom I looked up to and respected. Elsa was rich and powerful – or, at least, her husband was – and thus there was no reason for her to be bothering with me. 

She didn't seem to be of the same mind, a smile on her own face as she continued. "Would you like to get a coffee with me? On your break, of course."

That was most certainly a surprise, and even if I had wanted to decline, there was no way I could say anything to cause that smile to fall from her face.

"I'd love to."

* * *

Elsa, I learned over coffee that day, was a soft-spoken but fierce woman; nothing like the image she projected when standing next to her husband. She had attended university some years back, majoring in creative writing. It was such a contrast to my science-dense courses, and yet I found myself utterly entranced by her.

She spoke passionately about her work, organising Hans' charities. It didn't seem like gloating, or boastful; no, contrary to her husband, Elsa seemed very much to actually _care_ about the people she was helping.

It was with complete sincerity, at the end of my break, that she stepped close and asked if I were going to be free the following weekend, too.

Of course, I said yes.

I didn't see Hans very often after that. Elsa confessed to me some weeks after the first invitation, that the planetarium was one of the few places he didn't mind her visiting without him. I'd pulled a face at that, I remember, because she had commented on it.

"Oh, it's not like _that_ ," she'd said, already having decided what I thought of the situation. "He just doesn't trust other people." Her smile dipped. "But I'm glad I have you to talk to."

My heart swelled at the compliment, a warm flush tinting my cheeks. It seemed to be mirrored on hers. It hadn't even been the first sign of something more; it was, however, the first sign that I had actually noticed. It was in that moment that I realized how utterly ridiculous this situation was. Here was a gorgeous, intelligent, _married_ woman... and here I was, crushing on her. Despite these differences, I found it impossible to deter my thoughts. Truthfully, I didn't want to. 

She began arriving earlier after that declaration. Mrs Westergaard was to be given free rein over the entire observatory and planetarium, so long as she were accompanied by a staff member. No one else ever seemed to catch on that it was only ever me who would join her on those VIP tours. Not only would she arrive early, however, but Elsa also began to stay later, spending her entire day waiting for me to finish work.

"I have nowhere else to be," she said one day, without an ounce of self-pity or deprecation. I hadn't known what to make of that at the time, and by the time I'd thought of anything to say, the moment had passed.

I began taking it for granted, those moments. It was easy to forget about the real world when Elsa was there, asking me how black holes were _really_ formed, talking about stars and constellations. She'd loop her arm through mine and point up at the expansive display, showing the night sky.

"Take me to see the stars," she murmured one evening, about two months after our first coffee date. We were sitting in the planetarium's optics room, beneath the projected stars. She was staring at the sky, and her voice sounded low and tired. "The real ones. Anna, I want you to show me the stars."

There was nothing I desired more. "Okay, Elsa," I replied, head resting on her shoulder. "I'll take you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

Perhaps the heavens were against me; perhaps it just wasn't my time. The evening I planned to take her to see the stars would have been perfect; cloudless, a waxing gibbous moon. I was going to make good on my promise.

But for the first time in months... Elsa wasn't alone.

Hans stood next to her, and he wasn't nearly so handsome as the magazines made him out to be. Her face lit up when she saw me; she looked delighted. He did not.

"So this is her, huh?" he asked, looking me up and down. "Your... _friend_."

I wasn't sure what he meant with that emphasis, and so swallowing my nervousness, I held out my hand.

"Mr Westergaard, sir. I've heard a lot about you." I hadn't, of course, but it seemed like an appropriate lie.

I'd never asked Elsa why they'd gotten married. I was fairly certain I didn't want to find out.

He took my hand, squeezing just a little too hard for comfort. "I'd like a tour. Elsa says you're the best. Won't shut up, actually."

My eyes flickered over to Elsa, who had slipped into that perfect wife persona. Swallowing thickly, I nodded, taking my hand back.

"I try. Where would you like to start?"

Hans, knowing absolutely nothing about space, asked about light years and time, and perhaps Elsa saw my look of disgust because she let out a small laugh that was quickly covered by a coughing fit.

"Apologies, Hans," she said after a moment. "Anna's specialty is with stars, not... time. Perhaps we should start in the planetarium?"

I wanted to shake my head. No. No, that was _ours_. I didn't want to share it with Elsa's _husband_. But then Hans made a gruff noise of assent, and I was forced to lead them down the corridor.

* * *

Hans, unsurprisingly, did not have the patience for space. Within ten minutes he was complaining, urging Elsa to hurry up.

"Please, Hans. Just a few more minutes?" she asked him after the third sigh of irritation. He glanced over to me, standing by the front and trying to point out Orion's Belt. 

"Five minutes," he said. "And then I expect to see you in the foyer."

Elsa nodded, and he turned and left the room. She was sitting in the second row, in front of me but not close.

Definitely not close _enough_.

There was silence for a moment before she spoke. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "He... he really wanted to see where I was spending my time. Who... who I was spending it with."

"It's okay, Elsa," I said, though it felt dull and wooden even to my own ears. Elsa stood, clambering over the seats. She was only very slightly taller than me.

"Anna, I—"

"It's okay," I interrupted. "He's your husband. He probably just wanted to spend time with you."

I couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into my words, and it appeared that Elsa had noticed. She murmured my name as she stepped forward, and though I expected disappointment, there was instead a warmth in her tone that had me looking up. Her eyes were bright, and once more I could see the intelligence she possessed.

She took my hand in hers, squeezing gently as her fingers came to stroke my cheek. "He's... he's my husband," she murmured, repeating my own words back at me. "But I want to spend time _with you_."

And then she was kissing me, without any hesitation or preamble. Her lips were warm and soft – so soft that I barely noticed when I began responding, barely noticed when she pulled away.

She left then; turned on her heel and didn't look back. I don't think she would have been able to leave if she had.

I stood there for many minutes longer. My fingers came up to tap my lips; I could still taste her.

I had never allowed myself to imagine what it must be like, and now I knew I wouldn't be able to stop.

* * *

It was a few weeks before I saw her again. I waited anxiously the next week, but she didn't show up. The tours on that particular day would have been my most lackluster, I imagine. No matter how I tried, I couldn't forget the kiss.

Not that I really wanted to.

By the time the second weekend had passed, the longing to see her was excruciating. Even without the kiss, Elsa had been a true friend, and I desperately wanted to see her again. I was not expecting, at the end of my shift, to step out into the twilight and come face-to-face with her.

"Oh! Elsa!"

The joy was impossible to subdue, and I felt an intense desire to kiss her again. She was so beautiful. She smiled at me, but it wasn't quite right. As my eyes adjusted, it became clear why.

"Oh my God, Elsa..." I murmured, lifting a hand to brush away her bangs. Hidden beneath the blonde tresses was an ugly mark, purple around the edges. This was not a fresh bruise, and yet she flinched like she had been struck mere minutes ago.

"It's okay, Anna," she said, though it didn't sound like _she_ believed herself. Trying for a smile and almost succeeding, she took my hand. "You promised me the stars. Can you show me?"

* * *

There was an old picnic blanket in my trunk; we grabbed some takeout and wine as we drove out of the city, away from all the pain and light.

I found an empty estate, still early in development. We sat on the blanket on the dewy grass, and it felt as though we were the only two in existence as we ate and talked. Elsa offered me a bite of her food, and then a sip of her drink, and then finally, _finally_ , a kiss. A cool breeze blew; it seemed to be laughing as it forced us closer for warmth. One cheeky little spirit who only wanted to help. I'd tried to ask about Hans, about what he'd done and why she had married him in the first place; Elsa had just kissed me, again and again and again, and eventually I learned to shut up, mouth put to better use elsewhere.

We made love that night under a thousand twinkling suns; the next morning, when our own star appeared over the horizon, she awoke and slipped away.

It broke me, the moment she vanished. I'd never been with a woman before; neither had she. I was left to pick up the pieces; the blanket and takeout containers. Left atop the blanket where she had slept was a ring, clearly meant for me, and it was what gave me the strength to return to real life. It wasn't her wedding ring, and it felt so much more important because of that.

My thoughts, as I made my slow way back home, were only of her.

* * *

It didn't stop at one; it couldn't. We were two suns dancing in each others' orbit, and each pass only brought us closer. Every moment, every touch, was sacred, and we returned to that estate many times. It seemed important that Elsa see the stars, even as it became colder, riskier. 

But it was fleeting; just like that first time, she would always disappear before her due. Disappear before I was ready.

I tried to return the ring a number of times; she refused to take it back.

"It's for you," she'd said the first time. "A piece of me to remain with you, even when I have to leave."

If her leaving that first night broke me, then conversations about Hans broke her. I hadn't asked again why she didn't leave him – I _couldn't_ – and yet that small, selfish part of me wanted desperately to know. I couldn't voice the sour thoughts that ran through my head; the accusations of lies, of love (for how could she love me if she chose him?). It wasn't so simple as that, I knew, but was at a loss for what to do.

So I did nothing but make the most of our time together. She put the ring on my finger once, just before she left to return to real life.

"It's a promise," she said into my skin. "My promise."

It was enough.

* * *

We couldn't sneak around forever; the more time I spent around her, the greater my feelings grew. Feelings of love, of course, but also of others; anger was dominant among them.

I was angry, not at Elsa, but at _Hans_. She returned to me with growing frequency, bruises or marks on her fair skin. How could he do it? How could he treat his wife, this beautiful woman, in such a callous manner? She tried to hide it; makeup and lies may have worked on others, but not me.

And yet I understood the precarious position she was in. Hans _owned_ this town. To whom could she seek out help?

Instead, she just asked me to love her, more and more, harder and harder. She was mine, and seemed desperate for me to claim her as such. I had her ring, but what I could give her?

So instead I gave her my lips and my love. Anything I could to try and make up for _him_. She marked me as hers, and these bruises were _good_. I never returned the favour, though; the thought of marring her set my teeth on edge again, blood boiling.

I couldn't be rough, because I couldn't bear the thought of hurting her. I claimed her, instead, with her name on my lips, her reflection in my eyes.

"I want to be yours," she would murmur, desperate against me. "Make me yours, _please_."

It was so easy to believe she was.

But... neither of us had thought of the repercussions. We forgot, in that moment, that it was all temporary, a lie. 

Neither of us had thought of the _consequences_.

Hans came to visit me that week.

I was at work, guiding a group of sixth-graders, when he arrived. My back to the entrance, the only warning I had was his shout.

"You whore!" he roared; I only had a second to turn and react; too slow, as the back of his hand made contact with my cheek. It felt like a rock, and I barely managed to stay upright. My first cry was drowned out by the screams of the kids; the second, when he hit me again, was not. "You _fucking_ whore. How _dare_ you touch her?!"

It was easy to get over my surprise when he said that; the rage overtook it. "How dare _I_ touch her?" I demanded. "Just because I don't slap her around like _you_ do? Worried she'll leave you when she knows what _true_ love feels like?"

There was another slap, this time knocking me to the ground. I spat, tasting blood, before looking up at him.

"Stay the fuck away from my wife," he hissed.

"Like you've given her a choice."

He let himself be taken away then, the security walking behind him.

All at once, our happiness had been ruined. I was now the other woman. I couldn't call myself a 'home-wrecker', because I didn't feel the Westergaards' marriage warranted that kind of descriptor; because I knew Elsa's home was with me. _He_ ruined _ours_.

I took the rest of the afternoon off, urged home by my boss. I longed to visit Elsa, but feared whatever retribution Hans would deliver if I tried. It wasn't just about me: how might he hurt her?

Of course my mind wandered then, back to our first meeting and beyond. I remembered how I had hung onto her every word; she truly was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. So mundane and quiet, a shadow behind her husband except for when she was finally given the chance to speak herself.

I think I loved her from that very first moment. Perhaps she saw something in me, too; something warm and beautiful in the same way I saw her.

The next day, I handed in my resignation. I had saved up enough money that I didn't have to work for a bit – my apartment was cheap and shitty, rent paid in advance. I wasn't really eating much at the time, and I just... I had to get away. I couldn't be there anymore, walking through the corridors and halls, the rooms that once felt like they belonged only to us.

I hoped she was okay, that she'd gotten away or that Hans had managed to rediscover his love for her.

I found myself fingering the ring on my finger. It was beautiful, just like her. Silver tarnished, just a little, the gem sparkling brightly in the center. I didn't know what sort it was, but that didn't seem to matter so much now.

It didn't shine as bright as Elsa's smile, or her eyes. I didn't even have any pictures of her – it had always felt too unsafe. Now, I longed for the reminder.

I felt a lump grow in my throat as a second thought sprung to mind; the only thing I had to remember her by and it was the one thing I could never actually ask of her.

It was doomed and hopeless, the whole situation. How could I have ever thought it would end any other way? 

And yet... Elsa... completed me. In a way that I hadn't even realized until she was no longer by my side.

It was then that I made my decision, sitting in my cramped apartment, staring at a beautifully sentimental ring, and thinking back to the woman I... well.

I hadn't said it to her yet, but I knew. I think she did, too.

So I went out and spent a little more of my dwindling funds on something I honestly didn't need...

...but it wasn't for me, not really. 

I hoped Elsa accepted it, the same way I had accepted _her_ gift.

* * *

There was another grand party at the planetarium.

They'd finally finished the new building; naturally, Hans needed a to-do to celebrate. It must have filtered to him that I'd left – perhaps he'd been told I had been fired – for otherwise I _know_ he wouldn't have allowed Elsa to come. I wouldn't have been there, either, but I _had_ to see her. One last time.

She stood near him, dressed in black like a widow in mourning; a lonely star in an endless inky expanse. No one noticed me as I skulked at the back, hidden behind the crowd. I needed to talk to Elsa, but I doubted Hans would let her out of his sight. There was a bruise on her wrist, not-quite-hidden by an expensive watch; another on her upper arm, covered by the fabric of her dress.

My entire chest ached, and though I longed to stride up there and hurt him for what he'd done, I knew I couldn't. I couldn't cause her anymore pain, and I _knew_ Hans would take it out on her if I did that.

So, I hung back, observing her as she stood below a projection of the galaxy, out of the way until it was time for speeches. Hans was an incredibly charismatic speaker, and the entire audience hung on his every word. For me, it simply felt strange being here again in this place again, with Elsa – the perfectly mundane and yet utterly extraordinary woman she was – only half a room away. With everyone's attention on Hans, it seemed that perhaps Elsa felt my eyes on her instead.

As soon as she saw me, I tried to smile, to encourage her. Fear and love warred in her own, and part of me feared this would be the closest I ever came to her again. Swallowing thickly, I looked only at Elsa as I held out my hand. On my finger was her ring; clutched between my thumb and index was a second one.

Mine to give to her.

Elsa's eyes widened, and I saw her chest heave as she sucked in a breath. She looked down at her left hand, at the gaudy ring there. It was rose gold, with a pretty diamond the size of her pinky fingernail that didn't suit her at all.

Elsa looked at me again, and never before had I seen her looking so unsure. Her desire to accept, to fall into my arms again, fought her fear of Hans and what he might do – what he had the _power_ to do.

She looked at her husband and he looked at her, eyebrows furrowed the slightest amount. He turned back to the crowd, continuing his speech. I could see his hand clench, and it seemed so could she.

She looked back at me, at the ring held in my outstretched hands.

" _Elsa_ ," I murmured, so soft that even I couldn't hear myself. I felt my eyes fill, though it wasn't with sadness. Dread, perhaps, or hope. Impossible to tell, I spoke again. " _I'm yours_..." I tried to smile even as the tears began to fall, and perhaps that was what she was waiting for.

Hans stumbled over his words when she stepped forward; he completely stopped when she removed her rings before walking off the stage.

"El- Elsa? What do you think you're doing? Get back here!"

She didn't stop; I had never seen her move with such purpose before. Hans looked beyond her, eyes landing on me. His face morphed into a snarl, this horrid ugly expression that only made him look uglier.

"You," he said, looking directly at me. "I told you to stay away from us."

Elsa never stopped moving as she closed the distance between us. They both seemed to have forgotten their audience, deaf to the mutters and murmurings of the crowd. My eyes flickered between Elsa and Hans, and though his face was still contorted in fury, he turned his attention from me and to his wife.

"Elsa, get back here. Get back here now," he said, voice lower. More dangerous. "If you leave, you're done."

Something changed then; gone was the meek arm-piece, afraid of public speaking; in her place was a woman who had found the strength to be happy.

"If I leave, I'm _happy_ ," she cried, voice cracking on the final word. "If I leave, I'm _loved_. If I leave, Hans, I'm _safe from you_." She sniffled, turning around to face me. So did he. "Did you mean it before?" she asked. Her gaze dropped meaningfully to my hand, and I nodded.

She smiled through her tears as she stepped closer once again. And even though there were dozens of people watching the exchange, even though Hans was fuming on the stage, I found I didn't care at all when she lifted her hand and I slipped the ring onto her finger.

A promise, just like hers had been.

"It was always only you," she said, before leaning forward, holding as tight as she could. "Always only you."

And then she kissed me, directly below those projected stars, and I felt like I could be flying among them.


End file.
